"I can't believe you," he slowly said, barely above a whisper. His tone came out huskier than I thought it would be. But then, he got louder. "I can't believe you just did that!" The sentence, laced with fury, drifted off, leaving behind tension that was growing hotter by the second.

I blinked, stunned. But soon enough, the astonishment wore off and I found myself becoming enraged as well. Where did he find the audacity to be so mad? "What?" I exclaimed, my voice trembling, "Can't believe me? Well, I can't - I can't believe you, Mister I-Need-To-Be-A-Knight-In-Shining-Armor." I spat out the last part as sardonically as I could. And judging by how disgruntled he looked, I knew it got under his skin.

Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

He sent a scowl my way. "I didn't save you for the glory," he sharply retorted. "I just stopped you from making the biggest mistake you could possibly make."

I scrunched my face up in annoyance. "Oh, really? Really?" I almost laughed. "Funny because killing myself seems to be the best decision I've ever thought of."

"Are you serious?" His voice was so flat; it was as if he ironed it. "Are you- do you even hear yourself? Don't you see that this is so wrong? Don't you?"

I gaped at him. "Okay, wait, who gave you the right to determine what's wrong and right for me? Look, this isn't even any of your business. I don't even get why you're here. If you just stayed out of this, everything would be fine!"

"Oh, don't be so bitter," he chastised. The icy tone of his voice contrasted with the blaze in his eyes. "You're not supposed to give up like this. You're breathing because you're meant to."

Unconvinced, I stared at him, the urge to bark out a harsh laugh growing. "Am I, really?" I mocked.

"Yeah," he pressed on, speaking much softer now. Although I didn't want to acknowledge it, I couldn't deny how earnest he sounded. "You shouldn't throw your life away -"

"And you shouldn't have rescued me," I interjected, reaching past the brink of exasperation. I stood up even though I felt horribly heavy. "You should have -"

"What?" he snapped, springing to his feet as well. "Let you drown?"

"Yes." The word came out as a hoarse whisper. It felt like I was on the edge once again with an unbearable burden threatening to crush me whole. "You don't understand, all right?" My chest constricted, suffocating me. "You don't know me at all. You don't know what I've been through. I'm worthless - you got that? And I'm so tired . . . All I wanted was for everything to end already." And I mentally added: But I can't even get that. Of course.

I was so close, I inwardly cried. So close that I tasted it.

Heaving a sigh, his shoulders drooped. A long moment stretched on before he replied. "Well," he reluctantly muttered, "regardless of the reasons behind . . . what you just tried to do, let's get some things straight. First, I wasn't just going to watch you sink. Second - and I don't care if you don't believe it now - you're not worthless. You're not. You just haven't found a purpose yet."

Fresh tears pricked my eyes, but there was no way I would cry in front of him. "Wow, where did you get that?" I sniffed. "Inspirational-Quotes-dot-com?"

He scoffed and glanced away, his face contorted in frustration. But if truth be told, I was actually considering what he was saying. I just wasn't going to let him know it.

A thick silence fell between us and I didn't know how much time rolled by as we stayed there, alongside the lake, but it was enough for our deep breaths to quiet down and our dashing hearts to settle. I can't believe this is happening.

Finally, he faced me again and the slight wariness fleeting through his features was unmistakable. If we had been underneath other circumstances, maybe I would have been embarrassed to be caught staring, but right now, I openly held his gaze, stiff and unwavering.

He parted his lips, but no sound escaped. It was evident that he was trying to select his words with caution. At long last, he exhaled loudly and hesitantly said, "Give me a chance then." His tone was much milder with a hint of exhaustion.

I knitted my brows together. "A chance?" I echoed.

"A chance to understand," he slowly explained. "And a chance to teach you how to swim."

I had a feeling that he didn't mean literally.